The Gathering of Souls
by Tenelia Jae
Summary: She had no memory of who she was when she appeared on the steps of Hogwarts and knew naught but her name when she befriended the Weasley twins in their first year of school. At the end of all things, what will it cost to save all that they had lived for?


Author's Note: I have only one to say before starting this story: The original idea of this fic is quite old and it was originally written before the fifth book was published. That being the case, I am omitting certain things that were in the fifth book while incorporating others as they fit into the story since this takes place during that same year.  
  
That being said, I hope I did not ruin your first impressions of this story. Enjoy.  
  
Disclaimer: While I enjoy playing in J.K. Rowling's sandbox, none of her characters, places, or anything else that appear in her books belong to me. However, the characters that do not appear in her world or books do ultimately belong to me despite them being based on her world. I'll be good and put everything back into place once I am done playing.  
  
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Prologue  
  
She awoke with a start, her eyes flying open to meet with only the deepest of darks. Blinking again, assuring herself that her eyes were in fact open, the young girl peered through the black in an attempt to see something. Anything. A beam of light. The twinkle of a star. Fear started to beat through her little heart as she looked around, her head thrashing to and fro in her frantic search for something, her breathing heavy, her blood pounding in her ears…  
  
She was blind.  
  
Panicked, the child reverted to her other senses to find out about her surroundings. The ground beneath her was cool and hard. It was rough to the touch and felt like old and even ancient stone. The air around her was colder than the ground, far colder, causing her to shiver, for she wore next to naught.  
  
Soon, the girl started to cry. Where was she? How did she come to be in such a strange place? The last thing she could remember was…was… With a great sob the child realized that she could not remember a thing. She did not know where she had come from or what it had looked like. She did not know why she would end up in such a place nor why someone would want to put her there. All that moved through her mind were shadows and fog. She could not even make out shapes through the fog for it was too thick.  
  
Eventually, the child cried herself to sleep, her forehead resting against the cold ground, her arms wrapped around her thin frame. The girl slept through the dark night and on into the gray dawn that followed. A mist settled over the grounds around her and, high up on the front steps of a magnificent castle, the child slept on. And as the sun rose above the horizon and shone down upon the castle and the girl, the great oak doors cracked open. Through them stepped an old man with long, silvery hair and an even longer beard. A long, pointed hat was set upon his head and his pale blue eyes shone in the light of the new day. He did not see the child, nor did he know of her existence three steps below him as he stepped further out into the glorious early morning. It was not until the child stirred and cried out in her sleep that he looked in her direction. Moving as quickly as his old bones could carry him, he was down the steps and at her side, one long hand placed on her shoulder. Crying out again in her sleep, the child's eyes flew open, terror dancing through the pale orbs as she saw the man for the first time. Scrambling away and up the steps, the young child huddled in a ball against the parapet, shaking visibly with fright.  
  
"I am not going to hurt you, child," the old man said in a kind voice. He put one hand out in front of him as he took a step toward the terrified child. She shrunk smaller in her corner and shook violently. "Please, trust me."  
  
The child shook her head and hid her face in her knees, one ice blue eye trained on the old man as he halted.  
  
"What is your name, little one?"  
  
The child opened her mouth to tell him when she realized that she did not know her name. Thinking, she was only met with the fog. Tears leaking from her eyes once more, she shook her head.  
  
"I don't know," she said softly into her thigh. Wiping a dirty hand across her cheeks, she shook her head again. "I don't know…anything."  
  
As the old man stepped forward once again, she squealed and shrunk away.  
  
"Don't hurt me, please," she said pitifully.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, my child," the old man said gently, emphasizing his point by backing away. "I'm trying to help you. Please let me bring you in from the cold."  
  
Peeking up at him and feeling no ill will from the elderly man, the child slowly uncurled herself and stood up on wobbly legs. She was tall for her age, whatever it may be, and very thin, though not unhealthily so. Her wide, ice blue eyes were cloudy with tears and blended in with her porcelain skin. Dark auburn hair hung in clumps around her face and down her back, matted with dirt and blood. A large tattoo spread across her left shoulder and arm making a near perfect circle, the bulk of it printed across her back. Looking up into the kind eyes of the man, the child stepped forward and placed her small hand in his.  
  
"You said that you do not know your name, child?" He said, leading her into the castle. She shook her head. "Do you know where you are from?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Please think, child," he said kindly. "If it will help, I can tell you my name."  
  
The child nodded. "Yes, please."  
  
"My name is Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"Dumbledore," she repeated, glancing at the stone. Quite suddenly and out of no where, she muttered. "Jordynkiele."  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"My name," she said softly. "Jordynkiele, that's what they called me."  
  
"Who called you that?"  
  
"I don't know, sir." She started to cry again, large tears leaking down her filthy cheeks. "I don't know anything."

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_Several months later..._  
  
After living with a young wizarding couple for the summer holiday, the young Jordynkiele had been brought to Hogwarts to realize her potential in the magical arts. She was placed in a group with the other first year students who were all roughly her age. No one knew how old she was for sure. They could only guess at her age based on her appearance. And as far as they were concerned, young Jordynkiele was eleven years old.  
  
Shuffling in the middle of the group of other children, Jordynkiele, now called Jordyn, wrung her fingers in her black robe. She could not explain why she was so nervous. Her kind foster parents had told her what she needed to know about the Sorting and that there was nothing to fear, but the emotion wracked her body nonetheless. What if the others shunned her for having no past and no memories? What if they laughed at her gangly limbs and her mess of dark hair? What if she possessed no magical talent and that it was only a distant hope that Dumbledore held deep in his heart?  
  
Because she was lost in her thoughts, Jordyn did not hear her name being called.  
  
"MacAdoo, Jordyn," the woman said, her voice taking an annoyed tone. Jordyn blinked for a moment before pushing her way through the crowd of snickering students. She was not used to having her foster parent's name as her own. Having a last name simply felt…wrong. She couldn't explain it, but the feeling was there.  
  
Making her way to the front, Jordyn climbed up on to the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed down over her head and she jumped as it started to speak to her.  
  
"My, my, child," it whispered in her ear. "You have quite a labyrinth of thoughts here in your mind, can you find your way through them? No, I doubt you are ready to figure out who you are."  
  
"Who am I?" Jordyn insisted in a low voice.  
  
"You are not ready to know, my dear," the hat said. Jordyn shivered. "You will learn, in time. But I am not here to figure you out. I place you on the path of discovery but tell you nothing." The hat then fell silent. Jordyn wished that it would continue talking to her but instead she only felt as if something was weaving through her mind and picking her apart. She nearly jumped when the hat spoke again. "You have a destiny, child, and you have toiled long and hard, but for naught."  
  
"Please, tell me."  
  
"All I can tell you is that no House will do for you what Gryffindor will." The hat was removed from Jordyn's head before she could ask it the question on her tongue. She swallowed the thought and slid off the stool to join her peers at the Gryffindor table. The cheers went unheard as she sat down. She had spent the entire summer trying to remember something about herself. Anything about her past. All she received for her efforts were a few images in her dreams and whispers on a breeze that dissipated too quickly.  
  
It was not until a ginger haired boy sitting across from her and his mirror image next to her said her name loudly did she come out of her thoughts.  
  
"It is Jordyn, isn't it?" The boy across from her said. Jordyn nodded silently and glanced over the boy's shoulder to the windows beyond. "I didn't see you on the train."  
  
"You wouldn't have," she said more to the window than the boy. "I stayed in Hogsmeade this summer. That's where my foster parents live."  
  
The twins exchanged glances. After a moment, the boy sitting across from her began to speak again. "Right. Well, my name is Fred Weasley and this here is George. We're new this year too."  
  
Jordyn looked back and forth between the two and allowed a small smile to cross her lips. She could only tell them apart due to their positions at the table. Allowing her smile to grow, she shook her head and glanced at Fred.  
  
"Well," she said quietly. "I guess you already know my name. It's nice to meet you, Fred."


End file.
